Don't Mess with the BaseBall Cap
by Ceniza Quill
Summary: It is drawing close to April Fool's Day and Lorelai has a mission...
1. The Beginning

Disclaimer: Do you still have to disclaim if you never made a claim? Anyway...I don't own any of the 'Gilmore Girls' characters.  
  
Disclammer: I don't currently own any clams.  
  
To begin in the beginning...(to begin with a cliché)...  
  
The scene opens in an excruciatingly sunny spring day in Stars Hollow as Lorelai lifts the mug of steaming coffee to her lips. She is frowning in concentration. Luke is watching her frowning in concentration. Lorelai is devising a plan of action which holds pissing Luke off as its chief aim. Luke knows Lorelai is devising a plan to piss him off so he adjusts his baseball cap and shifts his mental cogs into third gear. It is 'April Fools' in two days and the majority of everybody's cognitive capacities are entirely monopolized by this splendid opportunity to get on everybody else's nerves. Now, having painted a general and rather ambiguous picture of things as they are, we will join our protagonists as their sly musings are trampled on by a need to tease...  
  
'Luke, can I borrow your base-ball cap?'  
  
In response, he indulged in a rich assortment of groans to express his disgust at the suggestion, 'Lorelai...you're not getting anywhere near the.'  
  
She cut him off, grinning mischievously, 'I know, I know, a symbol of authority, an emblem of nobility, a way of hiding your receding hairline. It embodies the institution that is Luke's Diner.'  
  
'...which is rapidly coming to resemble a mental institution. Hey!'  
  
She leaned over the counter and tried to swipe it of his head and promptly pouted her indignance as he recoiled, the hat firmly ensconced in its traditional position. 'Puuuhhhhhh-leeease!'  
  
'Go away. Get out. Shooo!', he herded her out the door, coffee mug included, and hurled her handbag out after her, 'and don't come back'.  
  
Lorelai, approached the window and, nose to the glass, executed the number- one weapon in her arsenal, "the puppy-dog-eyes".  
  
Rory walked up to her mother, 'He threw you out huh?'  
  
'Yeah, but he won't be able to resist my cuteness for long,' she proceeded to flutter her eyelashes.  
  
'Ahh, "the cuteness". Hearts have broken, musical groups have disbanded, dictators have fallen, cheese has congealed.'  
  
'Hey', she turned to confront her daughter, 'I sensed sarcasm.' She wagged her index finger, 'don't mess with "the cuteness", just remember all the extra food it has scored from various vendors.'  
  
'Yeah, along with the blatant threats regarding their personal safety.'  
  
'Pessimist!'  
  
'Yeah, well I haven't had caffeine yet so the 'Rory Gilmore' weather forecast is tetchiness in the morning with light winds spreading to the east and the promise of cynicism later on in the day.'  
  
'Okay, new plan...since it seems that Butchy dearest is immune to my charms we will go one better.'  
  
'We?'  
  
Lorelai grabbed Rory by the shoulders and whispered dramatically 'A tale of intrigue, of corruption, of scandal. Two sincere scintillating girls engineer an ingenious plan to punish the devious and dastardly diner owner.'  
  
'Mom the alliteration and multiple adjectives are giving me a headache.'  
  
'You discombobulate him with your witty conversational skills and I repel down from the diamond chandeliers wearing a slinky cat-suit and pluck his base-ball cap off his head. What do you think?'  
  
'I think it would be easier to buy your own...'  
  
'You're no fun.'  
  
Rory walked to the door and Lorelai called after her pleadingly, 'Get me a doughnut.'  
  
'Okay.'  
  
'With sprinkles. Don't forget the sprinkles.'  
  
* ~ * ~ * Lorelai's Inn * ~ * ~ *  
  
Lorelai pulled up outside the inn and took the key out of the ignition. As she leaned over to unfasten her seatbelt she noticed shards of glass outside the entrance and four empty window frames. 'Oh my God.' She fumbled with the car door and ran into the reception hall.  
  
'Michel! What's going on.'  
  
'Lorelai, you sound decidedly 'ysterical. It is just a window.'  
  
'Four windows!'  
  
'Okay, four' he admitted dismissively, 'but windows can be replaced.'  
  
'How did it happen?'  
  
'Gnomes. Or rather one gnome, more specifically a garden gnome.'  
  
'A garden gnome?'  
  
'It had a fishing rod.'  
  
'Okay. Let me get this straight. A garden gnome...'  
  
'With a fishing rod.'  
  
'Fine, with a fishing rod, flew into four of my windows.'  
  
'No, it was thrown.'  
  
'Get out of here. By whom?'  
  
'Well. Apparently one of our sanity-challenged clients bought a garden gnome and got into an argument with her 'usband. When 'e stormed angrily out of the building she flung the gnome at his 'ead.'  
  
'THROUGH four windows. Is it a boomerang garden gnome? Does it defy gravity and fly back into your hands.'  
  
'Don't be silly. He threw it back at her. You Americans are so aggressive.'  
  
'Where are they now?'  
  
'I believe they are arguing about who is going to pay you for the windows. But don't worry...' he reached behind the reception desk, 'I confiscated the gnome.'  
  
* ~ * ~ * The Gilmore Residence Couch...7:05pm * ~ * ~ *  
  
'A gnome, you're kidding,' Rory tucked her knees under her chin and settled herself comfortably in a pile of pillows, 'is it still in one piece?'  
  
'The fishing rod is chipped but it lives to gather even more frequent flyer miles. Just as long as the flight path doesn't involve my windows 'cos if it does that sucker gets it.'  
  
'Pass the popcorn.'  
  
'MMMmmmph. Oooh uhh erph phergit.' (translation ~ Yummy, oh yeah... I forgot)  
  
'Scoozzzie?' (translation ~ Excuse me?)  
  
Lorelai chewed frantically and swallowed, 'we have to figure out how we are going to get Luke's cap.'  
  
'Mom, what is with your obsession with his clothing?'  
  
'No, it's just the base-ball cap. It's April Fool's the day after tomorrow. The annual opportunity to play a legitimate prank on someone.'  
  
'By definition I don't think a prank can be legitimate.'  
  
'Shhhh, anyway. This year, I want the one thing that Luke guards more closely than his reputation as a grump...'  
  
'I see. This is like a quest. You are Sir Lorelot and I am Sir Roaralot,' she giggled and then continued, 'forget the Holy Grail; we want the Sacred Cap of the Duke Luke, hidden deep in the chasms of Dinerdom.'  
  
'Dear, let's not go overboard. It's on his head.'  
  
'Hey, I was just getting into the swing of things.'  
  
'Oh, sorry Sir Roaralot', she giggled, 'do continue.'  
  
'No, I'm done. Can I call you Lottie?'  
  
'No, under no circumstances should 'ie' be added to anybody's name unless they are an orphan who sings and dances and has an obsession with the word Tomorrow. So, have you got any ideas?'  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
Tune in next week for Rory's brilliant plan...(it involves chocolate moose, no wait, mouse, no hold on, moses, wait...wait ...the spelling is coming to me...mousse! It involves chocolate mousse!) 


	2. The Middle

Disclaimer: I still don't own any of the 'Gilmore Girls' characters.  
  
Dishammer: I don't currently own any ham. (I have lots of turkey though...)  
  
Author's Note; It turns out that the mousse was Lorelai's idea...sorry, I don't think these things through in advance, in fact I rarely think at all. I prefer ruminating/cogitating/musing/pondering, you know, anything wistful and non-specific that doesn't necessarily require an intelligible result.  
  
Chapter 2 ~ The Middle  
  
* ~ * ~ * The Inn * ~ * ~ *  
  
Michel led Jackson into the kitchen, 'Sookie, your 'usband has arrived. Please do not let him walk on anything. He is dirty.' Michel glared venomously at Jackson's feet before walking daintily off in another direction.  
  
'Sookie.'  
  
'Shh sweety, I'm sautéing these cheeky little onions. Why are you here?'  
  
'Cheeky onions. Well I brought you some humorous vegetables and, if you're in the mood, some seductive fruits.'  
  
'You know how to please your wife, huh?'  
  
Jackson leaned in to kiss her, but she slapped him, 'not while I am sautéing.'  
  
'So what is this ridiculous...'  
  
Sookie looked at him menacingly.  
  
'...ridiculously fabulous food for?'  
  
'There is a convention of psychologists staying here.'  
  
'What, oh please tell me that you're joking.'  
  
'Nope. And apparently, they love my onions.'  
  
'Okay honey. I'll...um...leave you to it.'  
  
* ~ * ~ * The Gilmore Residence, in Rory's Bedroom...9:07pm * ~ * ~ *  
  
'Wake up honey'  
  
'Mrphmmm, mom, what?'  
  
'Come, on', Lorelai dislodged the mound of blankets covering the Rory shaped lump that was moaning in defiance; 'we have got to get breakfast at Luke's.'  
  
Rory decided that breakfast was worth the unreasonable timing, 'Fine, but you're buying.'  
  
'Don't I always?'  
  
'Well actually...'  
  
'It was rhetorical'  
  
Their winding path involved hefting a mound of unironed washing from the left of the kitchen door, all the way to the right of the kitchen door. In a magnificently executed 'precision stiletto-heel-piercing' the goose-down in a cushion shot upward in a fountain of feathery fluffiness. (he he he alliteration makes me giddy.)  
  
'Ahhhh', Lorelai squealed as she batted the air defending her lipstick from the onslaught that threatened to redefine her "seductive scarlet" as the adhesive required for any good "tarring and feathering procedure", medieval or otherwise.  
  
'Rory, help. Ahhhhh, I'm dying.'  
  
'Mom, you look stupid.'  
  
'This is no time fling derogatory diatribes at your poor ancient..'  
  
'Clinically insane...'  
  
'Loving...'  
  
'Immature...'  
  
'Generous...'  
  
...Rory was chuckling too hard to respond.  
  
They finally exited the building and as they walked they polished their carefully laid plan.  
  
'Chocolate mousse?' Lorelai listed the ingredients.  
  
'Check, with extra chocolaty calories. Real quality.'  
  
'I raised you so well. Anyway, wooden spoon?'  
  
'We don't have any since you flung it at Kirk when he tried to give you a brochure for anger management classes.'  
  
'Anger management classes should not have brochures, they should have grey iron forms with barbed wire and he was asking for it...'  
  
'Indubitably. So I brought an ice-cream scooper instead.'  
  
'Genius.'  
  
'Chilton has that effect. We learn life skills along with obscure Russian Poetry.'  
  
'Golly, they didn't mention that in any of the orientation nights.'  
  
'Inside information. Strictly need to know.'  
  
'Naturally.'  
  
'Naturally. So Mom, what exactly are we doing? Last night you were worryingly vague.'  
  
'Well I figured we would just wing it.'  
  
'That specific huh? So why the chocolate mousse?'  
  
'Chocolate mousse has many interesting and useful facets to its mousiness, and, well, if we don't manage to get the base-ball cap we can wallow in our failure.'  
  
'...And mousse heals all ills.'  
  
'Yup. And it stains fabric like crazy.'  
  
'What?'  
  
'Shushhh daughter. End of lesson this be. Listen well you must, to all that mother teaches.'  
  
'About mousse.'  
  
'Shut up.'  
  
* ~ * ~ * Luke's Diner * ~ * ~ *  
  
Lorelai leaned over towards Rory, the menus shielding her profile, 'Listen, fill the icecream scoop with the mousse and pass it to me under the table...but be careful because...'  
  
'Stain fabric it does, O wise mother. Don't you think holding the menus up and whispering is a bit conspicuous.'  
  
'Nah, Luke wouldn't notice something this subtle. Bright visual aids and loud monosyllabic grunts are they only things that his brain comprehends.'  
  
'Ahhheemm,' Luke decided not to ask, retaliation simply caused headaches.  
  
'Luke. We're not up to something. We're simply concealing ourselves...reapplying our make-up 'cos...that's what innocent ladies do.'  
  
'Yup.'  
  
'Monosyllables. Funny.'  
  
'Yup,' Luke smiled fondly and began picking goose-down out of her hair. He examined every feather closely and neatly piled them on a napkin, 'just in case the goose wants them back from Cruella.'  
  
'Mom, he's not making fun of you, honest.'  
  
'Huh, really? You're mocking me. Both of you.'  
  
A 'Yup' in unison confirmed her suspicions so Lorelai abandoned all reasoning and logic, opened a carton of mousse, and dumped it unceremoniously down Luke's shirt. (Artistic license allows minimal dessert viscosity – hence the dumpability.) Luke just stood there, staring at his shirt in shock. Lorelai grabbed his baseball-cap and ran away as quickly as she could, but not before yelling 'just use soapy water.'  
  
Rory patted Luke on the arm sympathetically and then ran away leaving him shell-shocked. All he could do was meander confusedly to the door and watch Rory scurry away. Miss Patty approached him and remarked, 'Honey, I know you love her, but you can't let her get away with this.' She chuckled before continuing sagely, 'love stains.'  
  
'Like chocolate mousse?'  
  
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Thank you so much to all the reviewers, may your lives be ever merry, may your beards be ever bushy and may your lands be plentiful with goats. Sorry if you guys are disappointed with the length or quality.  
  
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End file.
